The Thoughts of Vegeta
by Elbereth in April
Summary: Will Vegeta's secret past keep him from falling in love with Bulma?
1. Default Chapter

1 The Thoughts of Vegeta  
  
By Elbereth in April  
  
Copyright 2002  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z. It owns me.  
  
Note: Please review so I will have a reason to go on living.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Bulma just told me she loved me. Well, she shouted it, actually, and then she stood there, waiting for my reaction.  
  
And I had none. I had absolutely nothing to give her. I wanted to. Ah, I so want to feel something for her. I've started a new life, right? I'm a new man. I could drop some of my—admittedly—alien concepts and embrace—love. Kakkarot has. But I can't. I've looked inside me and there's nothing there.  
  
_____________________ ____________________  
  
I think I may be going insane. Thoughts and images keep whipping back and forth in my mind. I go to train, and I can't even concentrate. I ended up getting sucker-punched when I sparred with Kakkarot yesterday. Obviously, that isn't like me. Do you know how long it's been since I've allowed myself to think, period? To feel—anything?  
  
I'm in trouble. Serious trouble.  
  
I have to leave Earth for awhile. I need to get my head straight. Bulma, I'd be sorry if I could feel pain for you.  
  
And yet… pain is the only thing left that I do know how to feel.  
  
_________________ _________________ _____________  
  
I've always known I'm nothing. I was a hostage, not a Prince. Never strong enough to beat Frieza. Not good enough to best Kakkarot. I couldn't save my planet from destruction. I couldn't save my mother from dying. I should have perished with my planet. It was my responsibility to be there. There is nothing left of my race—Kakkarot does not count. I am useless.  
  
I always have the same nightmare, when I dream. I feel the death of my planet. I go to Frieza to kill him then and there. And he laughs at me. I can see his face. I can hear him laugh. Then he beats me til I'm mostly dead. And then… I shudder back from it, but I can't stop the dream.  
  
No. My nightmare is always of the first time Frieza raped me.  
  
_______________________ ______________________  
  
I try to remember my mother. Sometimes I can hear a voice singing about war and glorious death. I think it's her voice. She had the deepest eyes. I'd never seen anyone who reminded me of her til I met Bulma.  
  
I wish I could remember my mother.  
  
_____________________ _______________________  
  
Father gave me as a hostage reluctantly, I think. But he still gave me. Maybe he had no choice. I was so young. There was a lot going on that I didn't understand. I feel guilty that I've never forgiven him.  
  
__________________ _______________________  
  
Do you know how much it hurts not to be able to save your people? I should have done something—somehow! But I didn't even know it was happening until it was too late. I vowed I would kill Frieza. But I couldn't. I never could. How I hate Kakkarot sometimes.  
  
___________________ _______________________  
  
I had a friend once. Another hostage named Sarain. Frieza killed him eventually—sparring. He claimed it was an accident, but I know otherwise. He never let any of his servants get too close to one another. I learned to stop feeling under Frieza. It was easier. And when you did feel—anything—you hid it. You had to.  
  
_____________________ __________________  
  
Frieza took great delight in trying to break us. It was his hobby. I was his favorite toy, I think, because no matter what he did, I refused to let go of my pride. No matter how much he humiliated me—and he did—no matter how much he and his men beat me—and they did—I never gave them the satisfaction of showing breakage. On the inside, it was different. Until I learned to pretend it wasn't happening to me, and that I wasn't feeling any pain. I refused to let them know—I refused to break. I am a Prince. They said I was arrogant. But pride was all I had. It was the only thing I had. And if I knew, deep down, that I was useless, that I was nothing—I would have died before I admitted it. I would have died.  
  
_______________________ __________________  
  
If I hadn't been a good fighter, I wouldn't have survived. If I hadn't been strong. I determined I would get strong enough to avenge myself on Frieza. I would take him down someday. I would beat him. For the time being, I took his orders. And blowing up planets—that was just practice. Everything I did, to make me strong enough to take him down.  
  
Now he's dead, there's nothing left in me. There's nothing to live for.  
  
____________________ ___________________  
  
I'm adrift. I'm so lost. I don't understand this planet, or its people. I don't understand Kakkarot, who smiles that dopey smile and acts as if he actually likes me, who turns Super-Saiyan without realizing it's something sacred. Who certainly never treats me like his rightful Prince. I keep doing all these things that turn out to be culturally wrong. And I don't even know why I care. I was going to reduce this planet to rubble. I still could. But then where would I live? I have nowhere else to go. At least here I have one goal to live for. To defeat Kakkarot. A pathetic quest, really. But I have to have a goal. And a subject, even if he doesn't acknowledge it. Why be a Prince, otherwise?  
  
I could make this home. I could settle down. I could become… weak.  
  
________________ ___________________  
  
Love makes you weak. My father told me that. Oh, Saiyans mated and all—but if you really loved, you lost focus. You stopped training, you forgot your goal: to be strong. We are a warrior race.  
  
Frieza just reinforced it. You love someone, you would be hurt by it. Frieza would kill him, or somebody else would. Or he would turn on you, to curry favor. Lishing did that to me. My second, cautious, secretive attempt at a friend. The next person who tried to make friends with me after that, I sent him to the next dimension. Why'd I do that?  
  
I think I'm permanently messed up.  
  
_____________________ _____________________  
  
The second time Frieza raped me, I was 14, and he had beaten me sparring first. The reason we were sparring was punishment for my letting a kid go. I was supposed to wipe out everybody on this space outpost—this base orbiting Planet Camat. I was doing it, too, Nappa a shadow at my heels, until I reached the lowest level. It was dark, and I sent a ki flare up to the ceiling for light. And the ceiling was this abstract of color—this mural painting—so beautiful. Nothing but colors, but it took my breath away. We weren't big on aesthetic appreciation on Planet Vegeta. And the floor was a mural, too, of land, water, and sky. It was, in fact, still being painted. And cowering in the corner, covered in paint, was a little girl.  
  
"Did you paint this yourself?" I asked her.  
  
She nodded, eyes huge.  
  
"How old are you?" She said she was 8. Nappa was urging me to kill her. And I couldn't do it. That was my last trace of… weak emotion.  
  
"Can you land an escape pod?" I asked her. She nodded. And I let her go.  
  
Lishing told Frieza.  
  
So Frieza broke nearly every bone in my body. He called me a weakling, and told me I'd never defeat anybody, especially him, and…oh, lots more he taunted me with. Before he raped me.  
  
But they never caught the girl. And I killed Lishing.  
  
________________ __________________________  
  
Loneliness is always there. It would be a constant aching if I let myself feel the ache. How do you describe yourself, Vegeta?—I'm an empty void. What if I ever said that out loud? What would happen?  
  
"I know you, Vegeta," Bulma said. "I love you."  
  
How do you describe yourself, Vegeta? "I'm the Prince of all Saiyans, and I don't feel love."  
  
_______________ _____________________  
  
I wish I could remember my mother. Did she love me? My father didn't. How I hate him.  
  
Why did I kill Nappa? It wasn't the smart thing to do. Why did I give in to Frieza so many times? Was it fear?  
  
_____________________ ______________________  
  
The third time Frieza raped me was right before we left to go to Earth, to find the dragonballs. He was trying to make me afraid. "You see, you weak worm," he hissed, when he had me helpless on the ground, "monkey that you are. You are nothing. I am everything. I am power. I am destiny. I am your master. So don't get any funny ideas about using these dragonballs yourself, eh? They're mine."  
  
And Nappa watched.  
  
That made him the only one that knew.  
  
I think that's why I killed him. Some secrets you don't want anybody to know.  
  
___________________ __________________  
  
So here I am in a new phase of my life. Earth. This sucks. At least with Frieza I could get away and pretend to be independent. When I was out destroying planets, I at least felt powerful. Like a real Prince. What a rush.  
  
But I'm not supposed to be doing that anymore. I'm supposed to be "civilized." It's an alien concept.  
  
But I'm working on fitting in. On blending in. I'm getting used to having no real power and no real purpose. Except to train. There's my power. Then I'm the strongest being in the universe. Literally. Kakkarot doesn't count.  
  
Kakkarot. I will beat him some day.  
  
And Bulma. What do I do about Bulma?  
  
If I let myself, I could trust her. I just don't dare.  
  
  
  
___________________ ______________  
  
When I went to bed last night, Bulma was the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep. And when I woke up this morning, she was what was on my mind.  
  
That's not good.  
  
I find myself thinking of Capsule Corp. as home in my thoughts.  
  
In short, I'm scared. I'm really scared. If I'm not careful, I could end up clinging to things. To people. Then what would I do when I inevitably lose them?  
  
______________ ____________ ___________  
  
I'm sitting on some asteroid I've named Mayor Major. I'm supposed to be training, but instead I'm thinking again.  
  
Bulma.  
  
I miss her. I miss living in the same house as her. I miss being part of… well, a family. I certainly never thought that would ever happen.  
  
Am I capable of love?  
  
Can I love her? Do I already?  
  
How did this happen?  
  
I'd never had anyone be nice to me til I started living on Earth. I'd never had anyone love me til Bulma did (except my mother. I think. If I could remember).  
  
Would it make me weak, to settle down? I could make her my mate.  
  
Do I actually feel happy at that thought? Scared, yes, terrified, really, but a little happy, too?  
  
I could mate with her without actually trusting her. If I loved her, no one would need to know. If I was weak, I would not need to appear so.  
  
Is that right, to do that to her?  
  
But she already loves me, without anything from me.  
  
I know I could never see her with anyone else.  
  
I have to go back, to tell her. To make her mine. 


	2. Vegeta Tells Bulma

_______________________________________________________  
  
1 The Thoughts of Vegeta  
  
By Elbereth  
  
Copyright 2002  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z. It owns me.  
  
Note: Please review so I will have a reason to go on living.  
  
1.1 Chapter Two  
  
1.2  
  
I got back to Capsule Corp. this morning. But now that I see her… I can't do it. I just keep thinking of everything I've done. The people I've killed. What's been done to me. How truly useless I really am.  
  
I can't give myself to her when I am nothing.  
  
But if that is my decision… I still need to tell her. I can't leave her hanging on, hoping. She needs to be free to leave me.  
  
That would rip me open.  
  
I do love her. Oh no.  
  
_________________ __________________  
  
"Bulma," I said to her, before I could change my mind and keep her. "I need to talk to you."  
  
We went to her room.  
  
She gazed at me with love. She had been so happy that I returned. I actually have someone who loves me and I'm going to throw it away. I'm messed up.  
  
My heart and my head are pounding. "Bulma, you and I—it's not right. It can't be." I looked at her, trying to act strong, aloof… trying to memorize her face to keep her in my mind to treasure for the rest of my life, when she's gone.  
  
She looked at me. She refused to give up on me. "Why?" she demanded, still hopeful.  
  
"I'm not right. For you. I'm an alien, and a killer, and I can't even show emotions. I won't make you happy."  
  
She just smiled. "Yes. You will."  
  
I desperately wanted to hold on to her. When you've found a home and someone who loves you for the first time in your life, it is very, very hard to let them go. But I had to tell her. She deserved better than Nothing.  
  
"Bulma. You're a virgin."  
  
She nodded, smiling beautifically.  
  
"I'm—I'm not. I'm used, Bulma." The words were so hard to say. My voice almost failed me. I swallowed hard.  
  
"A lot of men have had sex before," she said, frowning. "I'm not ecstatic about it, but I certainly understand it."  
  
But it was clear that she didn't understand. "No, Bulma. I'm used. Don't you see?"  
  
She just kept looking at me, confused. I closed my eyes, because they were burning with unshed tears. I couldn't think how to say it, so I finally just blurted it plainly. "He raped me! Frieza… raped me." I opened my eyes, pain welling up inside me so I could barely breathe. "More than once."  
  
I couldn't read the expression on her face. I was blinking back the tears. "So I'm no good for you." I just concentrated on breathing then. Short, shallow, gasping breaths, very loud in my ears.  
  
And then she wrapped her arms around my neck. "Oh, Vegeta," she whispered in my ear.  
  
It must be pity for me. It must be a prelude to goodbye. I waited for the goodbye, in more anguish than I thought it was possible to feel. It was as if I'd been cut, deep down inside me, cut to the bone, and the blood was welling up to fill every empty space in my body.  
  
Then she spoke again. "I love you. I'm not Saiyan, and whatever's in your past doesn't stop me from loving you one iota. Do you hear me? Do you understand? I'm so sorry you were treated so, and I still love you. And I intend to marry you, and you can't stop me!"  
  
My knees gave way, and if she hadn't been holding onto me, I'd have fallen.  
  
I stared into her face, completely blown away. "You—you still…"  
  
She kissed me, hard. Then she looked into my eyes and stroked my cheek with her fingers. She stared into my eyes until finally—incredulously—I believed her. And then the tears came, and I cried for the first time in my life since I was 3 years old and my mother died. We both cried, holding onto each other.  
  
"I love you," I whispered to her, one of the hardest things I've said in my life. "I love you." 


End file.
